


Bliss

by boom_slap



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_slap/pseuds/boom_slap
Summary: just a drabble for hot weather





	Bliss

"I always found soccer hilarious."  
Aziraphale wasn't even watching the game; he opened his eyes and glanced up at Crowley.  
"Why so?"  
"Twenty-two guys running after a ball and some thousands screaming at them non stop while they do. That's pretty wild, if you ask me," mused the demon, the words leaving his lips in a slight slur as he barely pulled the beer bottle away from his lips.  
"I personally think their acting is phenomenal whenever they try and pretend they've been kicked or otherwise hurt."  
Aziraphale closed his eyes and snuggled farther into Crowley's arm. The taste of cider was sweet and heavy on his tongue.

They were sprawled out on the bed, in front of the TV, the covers rolled behind their heads. Both of their bodies were still damp from the cold shower they've taken together. An hour ago, they were fucking like there was no tomorrow, not minding the hot air around them. Aziraphale, with the upper part of his body pressed into the mattress, kept his ass up, offering himself up to Crowley. Afterwards, their bodies were nearly aflame.

Now, Crowley put away the bottle and sneaked his hand under the hem of Aziraphale's shirt.

(a t-shirt Crowley has bought for him after convincing the angel that naps could be, in fact, wonderful; he's chosen a black one. Aziraphale looked wonderful in dark clothing)

He earned a quiet gasp and a small shiver. Crowley's fingertips were still cold from the beer bottle that's been sitting in the fridge all afternoon.

Aziraphale covered Crowley's hand with his own and scratched slightly.

"If you're going to use these cold hands of yours, you should probably put them over the bruises on my thighs," he murmured, licking his lips. "They're burning."

"You like it." 

"I do."


End file.
